Feeling the Fall
by Shadow Griffin
Summary: He had fallen, fallen screaming into some black abyss as she rushed forward with a hand extended - but not for him. Mindfulness had failed her and panic crept in, forcing Pidge to ride through its hell. At least in this storm, she wasn't alone.


I have recently been binge-watching this new series, and have been so totally inspired by Katie Holt's (or Pidge's) Mulan-like story that the stories that come next have developed from pure enjoyment. I am trying to get a deeper sense of her character, and this is just a tidbit. Please feel free to leave constructive criticism, but do not flame me. You will not like how I return the favor, my dears.

God bless you all.

Happy Writing,

~Eliana

 **IOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOI**

Mindfulness was something that Pidge had been trying so very hard to wire into her overly-logical mind... it wasn't something that she had done at all before, but it was certainly turning itself into something that she needed to do. She had tried all manners of mindfulness thus far, from focusing on the hum of the wired crystals beside her station to holding a bit of the food goo in her mouth to get the texture and the taste down which only served to fuel the anxiety more by reminding her that she was nowhere near home. All of those failed. Checking the weight-bearing servos on her lion had failed. Watching the stars float by outside one of the windows had failed. It was incredibly early in the morning, and that was the only comfort she could find as she pressed her back into the steel wall, feeling the sheer cold seep through her thin shirt and cause goosebumps to ripple over her skin.

Her thin, pale fingers danced on the edge of an old page of her diary as she sat on the cold steel floor, her legs having long ago become numb in reaction to the chilled, polished steel of the ground that bore her weight. She was so very light-headed, so very tired...but the entirety of her logical mind was focused on the edge of the page.

Rough. It was rough...and sharp, apparently as it cut a small sliver into her finger. Focus. Focus. Pain would gather focus. Cold wall behind her, freezing ground beneath her, rough and tattered pages of the diary at her slowly bleeding finger tips. Focus. Numb. Focus.

Somewhere, someone was hollering. Screaming. Someone was screaming.

'No, stop it,' she demanded to her self, 'knock it off. Stop. Haxus isn't here...you can't do anything else right now. Stop. Stop it.'

There he was, in a flash. The man whose life she had ended – she had ended it right? He had fallen, fallen into the abyss below that had no end and she had never heard him hit the ground, but in the horror of the moment she had stopped breathing and her heartbeat had drowned out the sounds of everything else. Had he hit the ground? He must have. There was gravity. He fell – Rover had been trying to protect her, it hadn't known that what it was doing would take a life...or did it? Did it choose her life over his?

" _I'm sure your brother and father would be proud of you, Katie,"_ Shiro had spoke to her, and the words vibrated through her.

No they wouldn't. They couldn't. Shiro had been so calming, so reassuring. That was before...before she...

" _They would be proud of you, Katie."_

It was as if he had been saying: "I am so proud of you, little one... you've done so well". It was as if he had been saying: "You're doing things right".

"You're innocent."

No more. The blood on her hands was more than just visual...it was scarring. So much blood. So much blood. There was so much blood on her hands... her soul was black.

Shiro had no idea what she had done to save her teammates, what she had done to defend the people she had decided that she was going to protect. Nothing he said could ever change what she had done. Nothing he said, nothing he believed could change what had happened. She had just _killed_ a man.

She hadn't blown up some oddball ship where there were faceless victims. She hadn't been so involved in a fight while helping pilot a giant robot and following an order from her captain thereby washing her hands of responsibility. She had killed a man, taken his life while trying to simply get him away from the control panel to turn off the generator. She could have knocked him out, shocked him with her bayard and incapacitated him. She could have used its grappling form to tie him down, keep him from attacking...instead she had fought him off like some terrified buck attempting to win its life from a rabid cougar. She fought for her life but took his –

Oh God she had _killed_ a man. Her probably had a wife and children...surely even soldiers of the seemingly heartless Galra had mates they held close to their hearts. Now there was someone out there without a son, without a father, without a husband, without a brother – she had done to someone else what was done to her, maybe made them an orphan or a widow all by her own hand. She had KILLED someone. She had taken a life in cold blood, she was a murderer.

Murderer.

Killer.

Monster.

 _ **Murderer.**_

He was screaming, screaming as he fell into the black abyss as she rushed forward; but she had rushed forward to try and save Rover, not him. She valued the existence of some re-purposed robot (to her shame, she admitted, her best friend) over Haxus who, even being her enemy, was a sentient being who probably had a family. _Had_ a family.

She had destroyed his family. She had murdered that man.

 _Murderer._

The slices into her fingers were getting deeper with every run but her body was numb – she could absentmindedly feel her freezing body trembling as she struggled to breathe past the panic, but she had given up fighting it. This was redemption. She was paying the price for her sin, her family would never see her the same ever again. Her team would never accept her ever again. She was branded... she was evil.

 **Monster.**

Haxus was screaming. He was screaming as he fell, his face frozen in front of her eyes.

He was screaming. There was blood. So much blood. She was numb...and so cold.

The sin that branded her was dark, dark as ink and it weighed her body down as she felt the black creep into her vision with the lack of oxygen.

He was screaming. Screaming.

Haxus was screaming.

The journal was pulled from her hands, gently yet urgently, and a sudden warmth covered her hands as she struggled to lift her head. There was some odd humming, a low treble tremor that vibrated the air around her. His screams, she assumed, were getting louder. Mindfulness had failed her. The tremor came back, more urgent this time.

Instinctively she grunted and tried to fight, numbly and feebly tossing her arms up in defense and trying to pull her head away from the hands that lifted it up – the panic drowned out the senses that would have told her that the touch was gentle, not the clawed calloused hands of the ghost that haunted her and was trying to kill her. Her senses would have told her that these hands were bracing her neck to help her get oxygen to her weakened body that was exhausted after that one movement. Her arms flopped back down lifelessly while one of the foreign hands started tapping her right cheek (listlessly she realized her glasses had vanished), some calm attempt to give her something to focus on rather than the dark abyss that threatened to swallow her whole.

It took several deep, hard seconds before she could hear her own weak, shallow, quick wheezing and that was when she reacted, trying to get her legs under her to get up and run...but all she managed to do was kicked herself off the ground and immediately go down again, right into the arms of the stranger that had had a hold on her neck. Whoever they were caught her quickly, adjusting her to lean into their shoulder, her left side propped against them as they used one arm to support her head. The other, warm, calmly began to tap her cheek again in an insistent rhythm.

Slowly her blurred vision came back to her and she realized she could see the color of the soft cloth covering her companion's body – white and black mixed together to form some kind of outfit that fit perfectly to their wearer. Based on the muscle mass of the arm in front of her...

Oh no. Shiro.

"-atie? -idge? ….eep breaths, Pidge. Hear m-"

The garbled words slowly came into focus over her labored breathing and she tried to respond, but the instant change of the flow of air turned into ragged coughs. In fear her back arched and her left hand curled into his shirt, holding on for dear life as her numb muscles contracted in an angry reaction. She had to gulp in air to support the attack, and ironically enough it was after almost a solid minute of the low, deep, pounding coughs that the exhaustion finally took over, shutting down the panic attack nearly as quickly as it had started. Blurred, her vision slowly began to come back.

Like a fish out of water she was swallowing, gulping air hungrily, all the while her limp head was held up so very carefully by Shiro's prosthetic. Under normal circumstances the touch to her face and neck, even by such a close companion, would have been immediately refused and triggered a fight reaction from her, but all she could do now was allow Shiro to hold her head up so she could swallow huge lungfuls of air. The hand she had woven into the collar of his shirt was being carefully pried off and was held in his other, his fingers squeezing hers to gain her attention.

"Breathe, Pidge. That's it, good job. Nice deep breaths."

Shiro's voice was a monotone but its steady level was welcome in her moment of chaos. She was about to die of embarrassment, she noted when she started to gain her awareness back – her captain had just walked in to her in a flat-out panic attack and meltdown for no reason known to him, and now she was leaned against him on the floor trying to suck in breaths to calm her pounding heart.

"Steady, Pidge, steady... Take it easy, now," Shiro spoke to her, shifting her head to his shoulder, "I'm going to let go of your head now, I'm not going to let you fall."

Fall? Why would she be worried about –

The moment his bracing hand left her face and neck the sensation of falling completely took over and she yelped loudly, bolting as far up as she could only to crash back into Shiro's waiting arms. Now she was holding onto his shoulders for dear life, her head buried into her neck as if she was trying to hide her face from the fall she thought she was about to encounter.

Shiro, to his credit, had leapt up slightly with her and caught her as she had gone careening back to the floor, his body in a crouch and supporting the entire height of her body so only her toes scraped the ground.

"Katie," He spoke to her, holding her tight as she gasped and choked, "Katie, I need you to listen, okay? I'm not going to let you fall."

"'m gonna fall," she heard herself whimper, winding her fingers into his shirt.

"No, no Pidge. You're not going to fall, I promise," her captain told her strongly, hefting her into his arms bit more and carefully pulling her over to a chair. She weighed nothing, he told himself, and let his frustration melt into his calm for just a moment. He knew she hadn't been with the others at meals times too often, but that was going to change immediately. He easily hefted her to sit her full weight in the chair and knelt in front of her, in no hurry to detach the grip she had on him. Rubbing her back with his left hand he used his right to grasp the handle of the chair he had rested his youngest teammate in.

"Can you open your eyes for me?" he asked her, getting a furious head shake in response.

"Shiro," she gasped into him, her voice slightly stronger than before, "Please don't let me fall. I'm going to fall don't let go!"

"Pidge," his voice was stern, and at that moment Shiro knew he had no choice but to assert his strength. He pulled her back just enough to grasp ahold of her face. Retrieving her glasses off the desk where he had haphazardly put the earlier he carefully slipped them onto her nose before laying his hand on the side of her neck.

It got the response he knew it would, and he had to admit that he felt more than a little guilty when she squeaked and weakly put her hands on top of his out of immediate reaction.

"Open your eyes, Pidge," he ordered with an edge of command, and slowly the bloodshot honey eyes squinted through the prescription lenses to hesitantly and shyly gaze at him. His eyes bore right into her own clouded ones, and he spoke calmly with care, "You are not going to fall, Pidge. You're sitting in a chair, and I'm right here in front of you. You are not going to fall. I won't let you."

"He fell," Pidge croaked out before she could stop herself, a shudder working through her body as she fought down more desperate cries. Shiro looked incredibly confused before she spoke again, "Haxus, he – he fell and he screamed and I never heard him land... Shiro he **screamed** when he fell and I know he's dead I killed him – I mean, I'm sure those ships we've destroyed have killed crew but Haxus had a voice and a face and probably a family and I stole him from them like they stole Matt and dad from me I murdered him in cold blood he fell and -"

"Katie Holt, stop it now!" Shiro ordered and felt her jump in his hold. He took a calming breath before he spoke again, this time calmer, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap. Pidge, listen to me."

He leaned closer to her face, demanding that her eyes meet his.

"What happened to Haxus was not your fault. You did not kill in cold blood, you were defending yourself and your team. Sometimes things happen... Haxus attacked you. You defended yourself – don't you shake your head no!"

She did, vehemently so.

"I'm s-supposed to defend p-people, Shiro. Not k-kill them. I _killed_ a man -"

"Yes you did," he affirmed, and her hands lost their tension, "And I'm so sorry, but you will again."

She was quiet for a long moment, two fat tears sliding down her raw cheeks through clenched eyelids.

"It hurts so bad," she stated hoarsely, looking to him with a light of hope that he could somehow take the pain away from her.

"Take heart, little one," he told her gently, "that's the reality of war. You saved us all, Pidge. Every single one of us. It will never get easier. Taking a life, regardless of which side, will always hurt...but think of it this way: The six of us would be dead without you having stood your ground. Zarkon would have Voltron, putting the lives of millions at his mercy."

He loosened his grip on her face an neck, tenderly wiping the tears from the stained cheeks, knowing that more would only replace them.

"You made the right call," he told her firmly, gazing into her tortured eyes, "You are a paladin. You are a soldier. You had to make a choice, and you made the right one. Don't lose a thousand lives just to save one."

She sniffled weakly, pulling back a bit from him to tuck her head down and pull up her shoulders, wrapping her arms around her stomach. Shiro knew that position all too well, and he was having none of it.

"Don't do that to yourself," he told her, watching her curl up more, "Don't torture yourself this way...Just breathe, Pidge. Can you take a nice, deep breath for me?"

She did, and he offered her praise that she gladly took. Calmly he coached her to relax, even as she looked at him with pain in her eyes.

"Make them stop, please," she begged of him, feebly trying to wipe the tears from her raw face only to wince at the pain, "They hurt so bad...Shiro, make them stop..."

"I can't, Pidge," he cooed to her, stopping her from using her hands, "I'm sorry...just let them go, if you fight them they'll hurt more. Just let them go, I promise they'll stop."

"Shiro, please..."

"I'm right here, Pidge."

"Shiro it hurts..."

"Shh...just breathe, Pidge. I'm right here, I've got you."

He slowly drew her into his arms again, letting her upper body weigh down on his and wrapping one arm around her as he hummed, rocking slightly to try and calm her. In a moment her realized just how tiny she was, just how bony, just how _young_ – it was so easy for him to forget with her mature attitude and way of handling things that she was still almost a child...a broken child that needed her father now more than ever. Samuel and Matt Holt were nowhere to be found, so Shiro decided in that moment that he would take over to the best of his ability. Carefully he pulled the younger's glasses off her face and folded them up, setting them on the desk once again before he fully cradled her, resting his chin on her head.

"I'm here, Pidge. I'm here. You're not alone anymore. I won't let you fall."

And for the next while she weakly clung to him, breathing through the pain of the molten tears that tore tracks down her face before she finally gave in to exhaustion, falling asleep suspended in her captain's arms. And once he was certain she would be alright he cradled her in his arms, retrieving her glasses and beginning to carry her toward the door when a sudden awareness came over him. The green lion's eyes glowed in the faint light of the hangar, and as a shiver rocked over his body Shiro knew she was watching him to be sure her paladin was safe.

"I'll take care of her," he told the lion, "I promise."

A low rumble shook his ribcage before the lion's eyes grew dull, the beast apparently pleased with that answer. None of the other lions had ever shown such protectiveness around the paladins before...Shiro silently wondered that if the whole time she was in this lab if it only fueled the bond with the green lion. She was being protected by something mightier than him...and that made him smile.

So early in the day the others were still sleeping, so his walk down the halls was unevenful. Pidge was settled into her bed, shoes tucked neatly beside it as Shiro drew the covers up to her chin, pausing for a brief moment to brush some of the hair that had stuck to her cheeks to be tucked behind her ears.

"I won't let you fall, Katie," he whispered to her tenderly, lightly stroking over her mousy brown hair.

Before he stood he glanced to the clock on the bedside table and gave a wry grin to the sleeping girl, reaching over to flick off the alarm that was set for only two hours away.

"Nice try, Pidge," he whispered to her fondly, heading toward the door, "Sleep tight...And I've got my eye on you. You'll have a partner in the dining hall for a while until you aren't so bony."

He paused for a moment, halfway out the door, and chuckled to himself as he shook his head.

"Your father would kill me if you came back to him so thin. And your lion. And the team. What a family."

The screams, for now, were silent, and Pidge's mind had finally found a moot point. If only for a while, she could rest.

 **IOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOI**

I hope you all enjoyed it. Have a wonderful night, there will probably be more stories to follow.

Happy Writing,

~Eliana


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